


Forever Yours

by FlickerInTheDark



Category: Haunted Mansion (Ride), The Haunted Mansion (2003)
Genre: 1890s, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Antebellum - Freeform, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Death, Early Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Engagement, F/M, Hate, Interracial Relationship, Louisiana, Love, Murder, New Oreleans, The South, edward gracey - Freeform, elizabeth henshaw - Freeform, ramsley - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:13:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25660417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlickerInTheDark/pseuds/FlickerInTheDark
Summary: Edward Gracey and Elizabeth Henshaw before the events of the Haunted Mansion.
Relationships: Edward/Elizabeth, edward gracey/elizabeth henshaw
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

Returning to my childhood home was always something of a tricky matter. I had enjoyed a lengthy sojourn in London initially to study, but then I was encouraged to stay by my father during the Civil War. He thought it best that a Gracey should never set foot on a battleground; it was far beneath us, he said. I had studied at Oxford, just as my father had, and had enjoyed my time there. After the war, I was meant to return, but something always kept me from returning, which I wasn't to put-out by. But now I was nearly 40, and I had to return after the death of my father. My mother had passed on a few years prior, and that being its own difficult journey that I had resolved not to return.

I always knew I would inherit the grand estate and mansion. I was my parent's only surviving child, and thus I knew from the moment I could sit up, that it would fall to me. Since slavery ended, I had the doubly challenging task ensuring the upkeep without my father's booming plantation. To be quite honest, I thought slavery to be quite repulsive. My father and I never saw eye to eye on that front. I would have thought he would be against the horrid practice as he had grown up in England, where slavery was decidedly out of fashion. We argued quite frequently, and I would have been disowned if he didn't fear the mansion would be destroyed after his passing. The estate had hints of the wild arguments we had. The fountain had a statue of a goddess who no longer had her left arm, and a couple of books in the library were missing from being thrown in the fireplace.

In England, I had wished that the whole place would go up into flames or something. I had no desire to run a plantation. But alas, my father was dead and buried, and it was my job to either sell the estate or figure out what to do with it.

I passed through the gates, the servant having swept in and taken my bags and rushed ahead. The Spanish moss fluttered in the slight breeze. It was early April, and already the humidity was soaking my skin. It would only get hotter, I thought unhappily.

In front of the grand door, Ramsley stood. Ramsley was perhaps the single oldest butler. He had been around my entire life. My father was not terribly interested in me, and my mother was ill quite frequently, so Ramsley did a great deal of the work raising me. I, of course, had governesses, but he was the one that ensured I comport my self as a gentleman.

"Master Gracey, I trust your journey was a smooth one?" he asked in his low, rich voice while bowing.

"It was fine," I said as I shrugged off my coat and handed him my hat.

"Dinner will be served in a few hours. I have enured that your belongings have been put in the Masterbedroom. Is there anything you require before dinner?"

"No, I think I will lie down and perhaps begin reviewing the books," I said.

"Very good. I shall send someone to your chambers when dinner is ready," Ramsley said, bowing. "And welcome home. This place has been much in need of a Gracey."

I only nodded. I entered what was my father's room and noticed that none of his belonging had been removed, but rather mine had been forced to share the same space. I frowned at his portrait that hung over the fireplace. That would need to be removed soon, it wouldn't do to have him staring me down whilst I slept.

I looked in the large wardrobe and found my clothes inside. I decided to change into something a bit more casual. As I was the only person inhabiting the place, why shouldn't I be comfortable? Ramsley might sigh at me and insinuate that I follow in my father's tradition for dressing for dinner, but what was the point if one was eating alone?

I laid down on the large bed and closed my eyes. Returning home had taken several weeks, and despite occupying lavish quarters on the ship and train, travel was still taxing.

I wasn't sure how long my eyes were closed before they opened to the something, or rather someone I wasn't expecting.

"Oh! Forgive me for waking you!" the young woman said. "I was told to bring you to dinner."

"No, you're quite alright," I said, rubbing my eyes. "Forgive me, but who are you?"

"I'm the new maid, I was hired a few months before Master Gracey's passing," she chirped.

"No, I mean, what is your name?"

"Elizabeth, Elizabeth Henshaw sir," she said with a slight curtsey.

I nodded. I was taken with her beauty and paused longer than I should have.

"Please, call me Edward. Master Gracey was my father," I said once I had collected my thoughts.

"If it would please you," she said.

Dinner was a dull affair, and I did not see Elizabeth for the rest of the evening. Ramsley loomed nearby, seeming pleased that I was home. I could hardly focus on the soup as I resolved that I must get to know this Elizabeth Henshaw better. And why shouldn't I? If she was to be a servant here, I should know who my employees are. Shouldn't I?


	2. Chapter 2

I looked up from my stacks of papers to unhappily find it was only 10 am. I had started work at nine, but the task at hand was a dull one. Ramsley had unhelpfully cleared the study desk and had stacked up all of my father's old account books and other important documents regarding the estate and my father's other business. He seemingly had his hands in every lucrative trade, and should I choose to keep those connections; I should familiarize myself. My father was so careful about his expenses and incomes that it was a feat in it of itself to determine what could be tossed and what needed to be kept.

Rubbing my temples, I noticed the teapot was empty, and if I wanted to keep trudging on, I would need more. I rang the little silver bell to summon Ramsley.

"Yes, Master Gracey?" he said within seconds of me ringing.

"Must you call me 'Master Gracey' every time?" I asked.

"But of course! It is your right as the owner of this estate. To call you anything else would be improper," he said firmly, "You rang, sir?" Ramsley was always to the point, never one to mince words.

"I am out of tea," I simply said.

"Of course. I shall bring another pot," Ramsley said, taking the tray.

When he left, I sighed. Another pot of tea would not make this work go away. I opened yet another ledger to find more confusing financial notes. Oxford did not teach me how to run an estate, and I felt woefully underprepared.

I became so engrossed in deciphering my father's messy script that I did not notice someone next to me. To my surprise and pleasure, it was not Ramsley but rather Elizabeth.

"Oh, it is you, Elizabeth!"

"Where you like me to set the tray down?" she asked sweetly. I noticed in the short time the tray had been removed that I had filled up the desk with papers.

I hastily grabbed up some papers and gestured for her to set it down in the new space. "Apologies."

"You needn't apologize," she said, setting the tray down. She made her move to leave before I reached out to stop her. She looked down a bit surprised.

"You told me my father hired you before his passing. Since you were hired by him and not me, might I ask you a few questions?"

Elizabeth seemed to pale a bit, so I quickly added, "I'm not going to fire you or anything of that nature, I just like to know who is in my employ."

"Well, I have worked various odd jobs, but this is my first permanent position, before this, I worked as a laundress," she hesitantly.

"Hmmm," I said. These were all professional qualifications but nothing about her. "Where is your family from?"

"My mama was from Mississipi and then came here with me when I was about seven."

"Your father?" I asked.

"I've never met him. Mama said he was a banker," she said, looking away.

I quickly changed the subject. "What do you do outside of work?"

"Mostly go to church, maybe a bit of reading."

"You read?"

"My mama was very intent I know how to read, and so I try to keep it up when I can."

"What are you reading now?"

"Just a bit of..." but she never got to finish. Ramsley loomed in the doorway and coughed.

Elizabeth nodded at Ramsley. "I better get back to my work. I hope your work goes well." And with that, she scurried out.

Both Ramsley and I watched her leave, and when I judge her to be far enough down the hall, I shot Ramsely a dejected look.

"Your tea will go cold soon, and I suspect it would be most prudent to get clear away some of these papers before lunch." With that, he exited as well, and I was left to my work.

I did work the rest of the day, even through lunch, which Ramsley brought and took away without being eaten. It seemed by dinner, I had made an acceptable amount of leeway though the paperwork, that Ramsley seemed pleased. I say seemed pleased because one could never tell his expression by his face alone. But he did nod approvingly when he came to fetch me for dinner.

"Ramsley, can you get someone to remove my father's portrait hanging in my room?"

"And where you like it moved?"

"I was thinking perhaps we just, get rid of it," I said, thinking a simple portrait wasn't that big of a deal. Ramsley bristled.

"I do not think it would be proper to simply throw out your father's portrait, the craftmanship of it alone. Perhaps it would be better placed at the end of the hallway? I had another painting removed due to damage, and I think it would be an appropriate spot." The finality in Ramsley's statement signaled to me that there would be no further talk on the subject.

During dinner, I ate, and I had indeed missed the cooking. There were just some things Gracey Manor could do right. But after dinner, when I went to my room, I noticed my father's portrait was gone. I briefly hoped that I would not find it in one of the various hallways. I walked out and eventually found where Ramsley had the painting placed. I wasn't pleased, but this wasn't something to fight over.

"I can have it moved elsewhere, should you decide," Ramsley said behind me. I had to stop myself from jumping because I had forgotten how Ramsley could simply appear and especially at inopportune times.

"It's fine," I said once my nerves settled.

"Which reminds me, we will need to have your portrait done. You haven't been painted since you were young, and it is long overdue," he said, appraising me. "And you need a new set of clothes for your current station in life."

His comment on not being painted since just before leaving for Oxford stung. Was I old? Surely not, though, I did notice a couple of unhelpful grey hairs sprouting at my temples.

"Ramsley, must I? It is nearly the 20th century, surely we can let go of some of these old traditions," I said.

"I shall send for the tailors to come out and have you fitted for some new coats," Ramsley said, ignoring my complaint.

"What is wrong with what I have?" When I was in England, I did make sure all of my clothes were properly mended and didn't look too shabby.

"You are no longer in university, and it is time you take up your ancestral birthright and therefore, must look the part. It is your duty to uphold the Gracey name, and I will not have people thinking everything your father built has gone to waste," Ramsley said tersely.

"Yes, Ramsley," I said like a rebuked schoolboy.

Ramsley's demeanor thawed almost instantly. "Very good. If you do not need me, I will make those appointments now."

I just nodded, and Ramsley disappeared as silently as he had come.

That evening I was sitting in the library reading. One thing I will give my father is he curated a fantastic library. Many were first editions, but that mattered less to me than the fact there was every book under the sun. I was reading a bit of Chaucer when Ramsley appeared in front of me.

"Pardon my late intrusion, sir, but I need to let you know of a current development, and I apologize to have to bother you so soon after your arrival and so late in the evening," he said.

"Oh?"

"My sister has passed away, and I must travel up north to attend to her funeral and situate her affairs."

I was a bit stunned. I was not aware Ramsley had a family, let alone a sister. To be honest, I had no idea where Ramsley came from. He has always just been around since I could remember. I couldn't imagine him growing up, let alone look younger.

"Oh, of course! Take all the time you need! You must be upset by this loss! I am so sorry to hear of your misfortune!" I said.

"I will only need a week, but I must ask that I depart tomorrow. I assure you I will have the staff working tirelessly in my absence, and you will not notice any change in service." His face did not betray any sadness or emotion and the way he put it, seemed like he was merely going to run an errand rather than attend the funeral of his own flesh and blood. Of course, he had already worked his whole trip out, and of course, he made sure his duties were situated. Perhaps that is why my father trusted and relied on him so much.

"I have no issue with you leaving tomorrow. If you need anything at all, please let me know! And please do not rush back here on my account, I am sure I can look after myself."

"Thank you, sir. Good night," he said, bowing and leaving.

I sat there reading for a while longer before considering what it meant that Ramsley would be gone for an entire week. I had never known him to be away for more than a day at most. The only time I ever saw him take personal time was the half-day on Sunday when he went to church in the morning but then resumed his post at exactly lunchtime. But it struck me that I might get to speak with Elizabeth uninterrupted. I wasn't going to spend all my time talking to her, but I just wanted to finish our conversation. Besides, as an employer, I should know about all my new employees, it was only right. I set my book down and decided I should go to bed. I am sure I won't be awake to see Ramsley off as I am sure he will depart at first light.

As I settled into bed, I wondered what this week would hold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	3. Chapter 3

As expected, when I awoke, Ramsley was gone. At breakfast, I heard that he had left before the sun even rose and had only packed one bag. I had hoped Elizabeth might be around, but I did not see her the entire morning, which meant I had to get on with work. Another maid came and brought lunch and tea but not Elizabeth. The morning was pleasant enough, and I was even able to ascertain the full extent of the Gracey fortune. My father had done very well for himself, and now it all fell to me to ensure this prosperity.

In the late afternoon before dinner, I decided I might take a walk to the cemetery and the Gracey mausoleum. I had not been able to attend my father's funeral and decided I should go pay my respects. I had no desire to do so, but it seemed proper, and I would rather do this without Ramsley lurking behind me. It was a lovely stroll; the fruit trees on the edge of the property were in bloom. My father got the land to build the mansion so cheap because it was near a cemetery, which most people were not keen to do, but my father, ever the penny-pinching man, bought anyway. It was a nice area, all things considered, and I thought of when my mother would take me and place flowers on the graves of those who were not receiving visitors anymore.

"But why, mama! It's hot!"

"Everyone deserves kindness, remember that Edward," she had said sternly. We placed a simple daisy on all the graves that seemed long forgotten.

I thought of that memory and smiled. Perhaps I should resume the practice. My mother was rarely well, but this was one of the few things I remember doing with her. Ramsley and my father disapproved, but they never said anything.

I made it to the mausoleum and descended down. To my shock and slight horror, in the middle of the room was my father's coffin. It was like he was on an altar or a dais. I had known no other family member to be placed like that at any point after their funeral, not my mother, not any of my siblings, and certainly none of the servants. This would need to be changed, and I would speak to Ramsley about this. Then I was struck with the thought Ramsley had placed the coffin here on purpose; it would make sense as he was the one to take care of the household affairs before I returned. Ramsley always had a reverence for my father and perhaps this was his way of mourning. It was really quite sweet of him to do this, to show his respect till the very end.

I lit a candle at the small altar and said a quick prayer. I was never the religious sort, but I knew it made my mother happy, and really I was doing this for her. I supposed my father did deserve kindness as much as any other person. I stood a while longer and left. I was never particularly interested in the family mausoleum. I frankly thought it was dank and smelled of mold. While I was not scared of the place, I certainly wanted to be out in the fresh air.

Strolling back, I saw Elizabeth, and her back was turned to me. She was standing over a grave. I decided it would not be wise to interrupt her moment and instead hid behind a large angel statue. I looked down and noticed a grave that seemed not to have been visited in a very long time. So I decided to wipe the top of it off. Apparently, this stone was for an _Imogen Prock._

As I was considering if she was anyone my family knew, Elizabeth snuck up on me. "Master Gracey?"

I jumped a bit, for a second thinking it was Imogen speaking from the grave. "Elizabeth, it's you."

"I hope I didn't give you a fright, Master Gracey," she said kindly.

"Please, if I am to call you by your first name, you must let me do the same," I gently reminded.

"Oh, of course! Ramsley was very stern about addressing you as 'Master' when I was hired, and I'm afraid I haven't shaken his words," she said with a slight smile.

"Ramsley, of course, is very traditional. You mustn't take his terse nature in offense, though he does give off that impression," I said, considering.

Not wanting Ramsley to dominate the space, even when he was away, I switched topics. "What has brought you out here?"

"Visiting my mama. And you?" she said, leaning closer to read the stone. "Are you visiting Imogen Prock?"

I laughed. "No, I was in my family's mausoleum. I'm afraid since returning that I have not been able to say my goodbyes to my father. I saw you with your mother, and I did not want to interrupt, so I thought I would visit with Imogen until you left as not to spook you. I didn't spook you, did I?"

"No, not at all! I was just about done, and I heard someone behind me, but you had ducked behind this tree before I could see it was you," she said.

"I'm glad I didn't interrupt," I said. I looked to the sky and noticed it was starting to go down, and dinner would be soon. "May I escort you back?"

I held my arm out, and she looked down in surprise. "There is nothing to be afraid of." She blushed and took my arm, and I led her back to the mansion.

"You said you enjoyed reading; I never heard what it is you like to read. I believe we were interrupted," I said in reference to the other day.

"Oh, I will read anything. I only have my mama's Bible," she said.

"You know the mansion has a large library? My father spared no expense to obtain the complete works of Shakespeare, the ancient philosophers, the works of Kant, Locke, and the like," I said proudly.

"Yes, I have seen when I have dusted. But I was told I was not to enter unless I was working, and I was scolded quite harshly by Ramsley when he caught me looking at a book that had fallen," she said embarrassed.

"Scolded? Ramsley scolded you?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. I was told that everything was 'the Master's objects, and it was a privilege to have the honor to clean the rooms that these heirlooms lived in' and from then on, I just did my work," she said quietly.

"That may have been my father's policy, but since I am the master of this mansion, you are free to read any of the books. It should be your honor to read the books, not to clean them," I said. I had stopped our walk back, and had turned her to me. "Elizabeth, I do not have the same ideals as my father, and I wish you to make use of the books. I'm afraid I do not have the same love for books as my father did, and I would like someone to make use of that room."

"If it would please you. I fear that I haven't much time to read, but I suppose I could read a few pages before I go to my quarters at night," she said.

"Please, take the book with you to your room. I know I won't be rushing to read all the books," I encouraged.

"All right," she said, smiling. This smile wasn't just a polite smile but rather her real smile. I hope that I might receive more of these genuine smiles, as they were so so lovely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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	4. Chapter 4

The next few days passed without much happening. The stacks of papers were slowly disappearing, and in their place were neat piles of organized documents which I knew would please Ramsley when he returned. On a particularly nice day, I decided I would bring my work outside. I set up my station and was just about to begin the days work when I saw Elizabeth hanging the laundry to dry. Suddenly a gust of wind swept up, and some of the sheets and clothes flew off the line. I rose quickly to gather up some of the items. I returned a handful of clothes to Elizabeth, who looked at me surprised.

"Why do you gawk at me?" I asked.

"Forgive me, I didn't mean to stare; it's just I have never known a person to run after another person's work, especially not the head of the household," she said, taking the items.

"It is nothing really. Perhaps it was a good distraction from my work, and God decided he might grant me a brief reprieve," I said but then quickly added, "But I don't really need a break; after all, it is just paperwork. I shouldn't complain that all I have to do is decide if the numbers add up. You must think me spoiled."

"Why would I think that?" she asked while pinning clothes to the line.

"Well, I suppose my work is easy in comparison to what you do. All-day you are up and about, doing actual labor, and I have the audacity to imply my work is so difficult I need a break," I explained.

"Just because your work is done sitting doesn't make it any less important or difficult," she said kindly.

Not knowing what to say, I began pinning up clothes as well. I was apparently doing a poor job of it because she was quietly removing my work and repinning.

"Please, show me how to do this correctly; I don't want to make more work for you just because I am a spoiled man who has never needed to do this," I said.

"Oh no, you were doing a fine job," she said.

"No, I wasn't. I wish to help you, and I can see that I am doubling your work," I implored.

"Very well, hanging clothes isn't terribly difficult. You just need to make sure it is secure, and you aren't making more wrinkles," and with that, she showed me.

I corrected my technique, and before long, the basket was empty. "Well, with this heat and slight breeze, these should be dry in no time," she said, pleased.

"Is there any other work that you need to attend to that I might be of some assistance?" I asked.

"I need to polish some silverware, but you don't need to help with that. You may sit with me if you are so inclined," she said. "I don't imagine there have been many parties here so that the silverware will need a good clean."

"I don't see why they need to be cleaned now. I'm not aware of any functions being held," I said before catching Elizabeth's eyes widening. "Unless something is happening that I have not been made aware of."

"Apparently, there will be a dinner party announcing your return in a few weeks, or so Ramsley told the staff a few days before you arrived. I don't think you were meant to know," she said sheepishly.

"I suppose I will just have to pretend. I was apart of a small acting troupe in my younger years. Father didn't approve, but it was good fun," I said, reminiscing.

I followed her into the kitchen, where all the silverware was laid out. I could tell the other kitchen staff thought it odd I was down here.

"Master Gracey, dinner is not for many hours. Can I fix you something to eat?" the maid asked.

"No, no. I was just speaking with Elizabeth and thought I would keep her company whilst she attends to all this," I said, gesturing to the baskets of silverware. "Please feel free to rest until supper," I said this mostly so that Elizabeth and I could talk privately.

"If it pleases you," she said before disappearing. I detected an air of disapproval, but it wasn't as if she would object.

We sat down, and she grabbed a rag and some polish and began to work the tarnish off a serving spoon.

"I imagine people will be gossiping about this," Elizabeth said, not looking at me.

"What do you mean?"

"Servent and her employer, in the same room as if she were his equal," Elizabeth said.

"Oh, I see."

Neither of us spoke for a while, and it wasn't until she put down a giant serving platter and looked at me.

"Why are you being so kind? I have worked many places, and you are the first to call me by my first name," she said.

"I suppose I believe everyone deserves kindness," I said earnestly.

There was an awkward silence. "If this makes you uncomfortable, I can leave. I wouldn't want to be an imposition."

"No, it's fine. It is just different. I suppose I rather you sit here with me and be a gentleman than yelling at me," she said with a slight smile.

"Have all of your employers been cruel?"

She gave me a weird look, "I'm not sure cruel is the right word, but none have been kind to me. Of course, I wouldn't expect anyone to be tripping over themselves to be nice to me."

"Why do you say, 'of course'?" I said dumbly.

"I'm mixed..." she said as if it was perfectly obvious.

"Oh... because you're mixed race, people are cruel to you?" I said, a bit shocked. How could anyone be cruel to a servant who did their job well? Who could be cruel to their fellow human?

"I'm still Black, in the eyes of the law, so I guess people see fit to be cruel to me," she said with a twinge of anger. "How do you not know about this? Folks of color are treated horribly every day, and no one seems to care. Have you been privileged not to see this?"

"I will not be spoken to this way!" I said defensively and standing up and slamming my hand on the table.

There was a thick silence that descended in the room. I wanted to be angry that she had spoken to be this way, but in truth, she was right. I was blind to those I did not associate with, and being away had not helped. I was naive.

"Forgive me, I should not have spoken to you that way," she said, looking away.

"No, you're right. I have been ignorant, whether willfully at times or not. I was foolish to ask something and not to accept your anger. It is I who should apologize for speaking as I did," I said, sitting down. "I want you to feel comfortable talking to me and I will endeavor to listen and not yell when the topic reveals uncomfortable truths."

She simply nodded. It seemed she had this conversation before, and had not gone well. I decided to switch topics. Once again, I made conversations awkward.

"Have you picked something to read?" I asked.

"Oh, yes, thank you," she said. "I picked out _Grimm's Fairytales._ I know they are for children, but sometimes one likes to imagine they are a beautiful princess."

"But you are beautiful!" I blurted out. Before I could cover for my slip, she said, "You think I am pretty?"

"Of course!" I said, aghast that she did not think so herself.

"No one has ever said that to me before," she mused.

"Forgive how I said it, but it is none the less true. The sun comes up because it misses your beauty," I opined.

"Well, I wish the sun would come up later. I would like another hour to sleep," she laughed, brushing off my comment.

"You don't believe me, do you?" I said. "Let me prove to you that your image deserves to be in every museum; let me paint you!"

"Paint me? I am not a great beauty. You shouldn't waste canvas on me, sir, I must insist not," she said.

"Please, I have a certain canvas in mind that must be covered anyway," I said, "It suffered some water damage, and besides, it would be my honor as well as my privilege."

"Well, we would have to do it in the evenings because I have work I need to attend to," she considered, "but please don't inconvenience yourself on account of me."

"This evening then, meet me in the library," I said, rising. It wasn't that I wanted to leave her but rather that I had to look for something.

I made my way to the attic where the old trunks lay. I found what I was searching for quickly. In an old trunk were many of my mother's old dresses. She always thought one of her daughters would someday be able to makeover one of her old dresses, but alas, she only had a son. But she still kept them and donated them to those in need. I found a lovely gown, the color of goldenrod. It would look striking against her dark hair. I also found some earrings that would do. I ordered that these clothes be cleaned up and delivered to Elizabeth's room and that she wasn't to see a thing.

That evening I was waiting in the library. My father's painting had been brought in and set up with an easel. I had already covered it over. The painting was in pristine condition, but Elizabeth didn't need to know that.

Elizabeth glided into the room then, and I looked up and let a small gasp escape me. She was radiant, her hair was swept up, and the dress looked perfect on her. It was as if an angel entered.

"I trust the dress is suitable? I hope you didn't think it too forward of me," I said, not knowing quite what to say.

"This dress is too nice for me to wear. A queen should be wearing this, not a servant," she said.

"But a queen is wearing this dress. I couldn't imagine anyone else wearing this gown," I said.

She blushed then. Before this could become more awkward, I led her to a little ottoman. She sat and then asked, "How should I pose?"

"Any way that is comfortable," I said, preparing my paint on my pallet.

"I feel like it would look strange if my arms were just hanging there," she said. She moved around a bit, trying to find a suitable place for her arms when she was fiddling with her necklace, and I held up a hand.

"Stop! Right there!" I said. Her hands were crossed at her heart.

And I painted her. I knew it wouldn't be done in one night, but I tried to work as fast as possible.

"What does a gentleman like you know about painting?" she asked.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I know you learned of art at university, but I thought only ladies painted or those who make their living as an artist," she said.

"My mother never had a daughter, and she loved to paint herself, being ill a lot of the time, so I spent a lot of time with her, and I learned to paint that way. I never was formally trained or went to art school; father would never allow that. But throughout university, I dabbled with painting. It has always been a nice past time that had helped me remember my childhood when I was far away," I considered.

"That sounds lovely," she murmured.

And we were silent for the next hour. No words needed to pass for us both to know that this somehow felt right.

When I was done for the night, I released her, saying, "I apologize for keeping you up. I know you have your duties to attend to."

"I quite enjoyed this time; gave me time to ponder and think on things," she mused.

"What were you thinking about?" I asked.

"I should be preparing for bed," she said, "What should I do with this gown? Would you like it returned to you tomorrow?"

I noticed how she didn't answer my question, but it really wasn't my business, so I responded, "Keep it. I haven't even really started on the gown, and besides, think of it as a gift."

"No, I couldn't!"

"Well, keep it for now, at least, until the painting is done," I said.

"But when you're done, this lovely gown will be back in your quarters again," she reaffirmed.

I smiled. "Fine. Can we continue tomorrow night then?"

She nodded and bid her leave for bed. I remained in the library and continued to work a bit on the portrait. I knew Ramsley would not be pleased with what I was doing but, I am the master of this estate, and so I could do as I please.

I also thought about Elizabeth. I quite liked how honest and plain-spoken she was. I hesitate to admit to even myself if I felt something more for her. On one hand, she felt like someone I could spend my life talking to but, on the other hand, there was society's reaction.

While I saw her as Elizabeth Henshaw, what would society think? Plenty of people I knew through my father had mistresses or affairs with their servants, but I did not want to be one of those people. The whole affair did not sit right with me. I did not want to marry someone society thought was acceptable only to cheat and hurt two people in the end. I wanted to court Elizabeth, not as my servant but as just Elizabeth. I wanted anything we became to not be gossiped about or looked down upon.

I decided, at that moment, I would comport like the gentleman my mother wanted, and if I did not act strangely about this, then no one else would need to twitter. I would make my intentions obvious and civil, and should she decide otherwise; I would back off immediately without objection if she said no or was in any way uncomfortable.

That night while I was lying awake I considered this new future. Elizabeth's eyes were burned into my mind and I was hoping I could look into her brown eyes more in the future. I hoped we could have a future together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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